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1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

( 


.  s 


CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 


n 
''I 


THE   HOPEFUL 
/ 

t 


i: 


BOSTON 

Geo.  H.  Elus,  %7%  Comgress  Strbbt 

1S99 


•\ 


h."^ 


c 


corviiaHT  1899 
By  Geo.  H.   Ellii 

59474 


l-lbt-ku  y  of  Conv^a* 

OCT  11  1900 

CoyjrWf  M  Mitry 

^:.t':m  COPY. 

OftDE<«  DIVISION, 
__OCT   16  I90Q 


PRESS    OF 

Geo.  H.  Ellis,  Boston 


^'^^ 


CT^HIS  is  the  captain's  last  voyage. 

He  commands  a  new  ship. 
It  is  the  sea  of  life  on  which  he  sails. 
The  ship  is  laden^  hold  and  decks^  with  hope. 
There    is    abundance   for    any    harbor    into 
which  he  may  enter. 


I     \ 


)STON 


CAPTAIN  ISRAEL,  THE 
HOPEFUL. 


1 1 


Chapter  I. 
LAMARTINE. 

Wi  took  the  steamer  at  Boston.  We 
were  off  to  Maine  for  our  summer  holidays. 
Away  from  business  and  "society,"  we 
were  going  to  one  of  the  quietest  spots  in 
the  land,  and  to  the  companionship  of  a 
man  whom  sky  and  sea  had  filled  with 
their  own  boundless  life. 

As  we  drew  near  the  Maine  coast,  a  fog 
fell  upon  us,  so  that  we  had  to  thread  our 
way  in  faith  through  the  many  little  islands 
close  to  the  southern  shore.  As  we  rounded 
a  promontory  exposed  to  the  open  sea,  we 
got  a  touch  of  a  storm  which  gave  us  an 
idea  of  what  old  Atlantic  could  do.  Those 
of  us  who  were  not  sailors  were  glad  when 


ill 

I 


i 


If 


•  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

we  came  under  the  shelter  of  two  or  three 
islands  not  far  from  shore.  In  half  an 
hour  more  we  were  safe  in  the  harbor  of 
Bayford,  where  we  were  to  wait  for  the 
little  steamer  that  was  to  take  us  across  the 
inlet  to  Lamartine.  This  inlet  is  called 
Francois  Bay.  Promontories  and  islands 
shut  it  in  from  the  great  ocean. 

While  standing  on  the  wharf  and  looking 
across  the  bay,  we  saw  a  speck  on  the 
waters,  puffing  away  as  if  with  each  puff 
the  whole  would  go  up  in  smoke.  Nearer 
it  came.  "  Yes,  it  is  the  '  Ajax,' "  was  the 
cry.  "There  she  comes."  And,  true  enough, 
when  the  mite  of  a  steamer  came  to  the 
wharf,  we  read  on  its  side  the  name  of  the 
mighty  Ajax. 

We  put  our  trunks  on  board;  and,  as 
there  were  five  of  them,  they  took  up  most 
of  the  space  on  the  upper  deck.  But  they 
served  as  seats  for  the  first-class  passen- 
gers, the  only  seats  in  sight :  second-class 
passengers  could  stand.  When  out  a  little 
way,  we  were  glad  enough  to  pull  these  ex- 


SL 

two  or  three 

In  half  an 
the  harbor  of 
wait  for  the 
us  across  the 
tlet  is  called 

and  islands 
1. 

f  and  looking 
ipeck  on  the 
ith  each  puff 
oke.  Nearer 
ix,' "  was  the 
,  true  enough, 

came  to  the 
!  name  of  the 

ard;  and,  as 
took  up  most 
ck.  But  they 
'Class  passen- 
;  second-class 
en  out  a  little 
pull  these  ex- 


THE  HOPEFUL  3 

temporized  seats  close  to  the  smoke-stack ; 
for  the  air  was  cool  on  the  upper  deck,  and 
the  warmth  of  the  stack  was  most  enjoy- 
able. 

As  we  drew  near  Lamartine,  we  marked 
at  once  the  fine  wharf,  with  many  of  the 
modem  appliances  for  loading  and  unload- 
ing vessels.  Some,  therefore,  thought  that 
Lamartine  was  a  busy  town  with  a  large 
shipping  trade.  But  these  new-comers  were 
quickly  set  right  by  one  who  had  spent 
many  happy  summers  in  this  quiet  place. 
"  Lamartine,"  he  said,  "  is  like  some  store- 
keepers, who  put  into  their  show  windows 
most  of  their  goods.  This  wharf  has  seen 
better  days." 

Valises  in  hand  and  trunks  following  on 
a  hay-rack-wagon,  we  reached  our  board- 
ing-places,—  country  houses  with  hens  and 
chickens  about,  with  potatoes  and  com 
growing  in  the  fields  near  shore,  peas  ripen- 
ing, and,  better  than  all  else,  good  home- 
cooking  within. 

The  town  itself  kept  close  to  the  sea.    It 


if 


I 


'Lfmk^ 


4  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

seemed  afraid  to  leave  the  water  to  climb 
the  hills  that  skirted  the  shore.  Some  said 
Lamartine  did  not  care  for  such  hard  work 
as  climbing;  while  others  said  its  people 
were  of  the  sea,  and  their  home  must  be 
by  the  sea.  For  them  its  waves  gave  forth 
music,  and  its  storms  were  reminders  of 
by-gone  toils.  The  people  held  that  the 
moon  rising  in  the  east,  and  throwing  a 
pathway  of  light  across  the  ocean  to  the 
very  foot  of  their  town,  was  more  than  the 
moon  did  anywhere  else  in  the  great,  round 
world.  And  as  for  the  sun,  when  he  har- 
nessed his  fiery  steeds  and  came  up  from 
the  ocean  depths,  fresh  from  a  morning 
bath  in  the  clear  salt  water,  he  greeted 
Lamartine  as  he  never  thought  of  greeting 
the  larger  cities,  which  had  no  time  to  mark 
his  glories,  so  immersed  were  they  in  busi- 
ness. The  stars,  too,  smiled  into  the 
ocean;  and  all  Lamartine  saw  that  the 
smile  was  returned  by  the  glad  waters, 
which  rejoiced  in  their  fellowship  with  the 
sky.     For  these  reasons  the  town  stayed 


lEL 

(vatei  to  climb 
re.  Some  said 
uch  hard  work 
laid  its  people 
home  must  be 
ives  gave  forth 
:  reminders  of 

held  that  the 
id  throwing  a 
:  ocean  to  the 

more  than  the 
le  great,  round 
,  when  he  har- 
came  up  from 
>m  a  morning 
tr,  he  greeted 
fht  of  greeting 
o  time  to  mark 
e  they  in  busi- 
liled    into    the 

saw  that  the 
i  glad  waters, 
iwship  with  the 
!  town  stayed 


THE  HOPEFUL  $ 

close  to  shore,  and  left  to  the  trees  the 
hills  as  their  undisturbed  homes.  And,  as 
if  in  gratitude,  trees  and  hills  took  their 
part  in  making  the  town  a  place  blessed  of 
nature;  for,  when  sun  or  moon  set  in  the 
west,  hills  and  trees  together  threw  their 
shadows  upon  the  shore,  and  far  and  deep 
into  the  bay,  giving  double  beautj'  to  all 
around. 

In  Lamartine  there  are  no  side  streets. 
It  is  a  town  of  one  street  wandering  along 
the  seacoast,  and,  seeming  to  tire  of  being 
a  town  street,  becomes  a  country  road,  and 
keeps  on  as  a  road,  away  from  sea  and  hill, 
to  the  busy  town  of  Edwardsburg. 

Two  of  those  who  landed  from  the  "  Ajax  " 
were  to  live  for  the  summer  with  William 
Israel,  known  in  Lamartine  as  "Cap'  Is- 
rael, the  Hopeful."  One  of  these  was  a 
doctor,  who  said  he  must  have  a  rest  for 
one  summer,  even  if  he  should  lose  all  his 
practice.  The  other  was  a  minister,  who 
could  never  qmte  get  rid  of  his  liking  for  a 
talk  on  theology,  no  matter  where  he  went, 


i  I 


il;7f 


.t-m  ■ 


1 


f 


6  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

and  who  found  that  Captain  Israel  had  a 
theology  of  his  own,  the  web  of  which  was 
the  sea  and  the  woof  the  sky,  while  the 
odd  threads,  which  gave  brightness  to  all, 
were  out  of  the  captain's  own  life  and 
Lamartine's  quaint  ways. 


)' 


SiSiil 


Israel  had  a 
of  which  was 


^> 


while  the 


htness  to  all, 
iwn   life   and 


\i 


Chapter  II. 
CAPTAIN   ISRAEL. 

Whkn  darkness  fell  upon  land  and  sea, 
Captain  Israel  and  his  two  companions 
would  go  down  to  the  shore  to  watch  the 
tide  come  in.  Their  resting-place  was  an 
old  upturned  row-boat  lying  on  the  beach, 
its  days  of  usefulness  being  over.  On  this 
the  three  would  sit,  the  captain  in  the 
middle.  "Boys"  was  the  term  the  cap- 
tain would  use  in  addressing  minister  and 
doctor  together.  But,  when  he  spoke  only 
to  the  minister,  it  was,  "  Eh,  Parson  " ;  and 
when  to  the  doctor,  it  was,  "  Well,  Doc." 

And  perhaps  he  had  reason  on  his  side 
when  he  rose  to  fatherhood  over  these  two 
dignified  professionals,  whose  smooth  faces 
were  in  marked  contrast  with  his  own  fur- 
rowed countenance.  The  captain's  face 
was  like  the  sea,  and  the  furrows,  like  the 
waves,  deep  and  strong.  And,  though  fur- 
rowed, it  had  to  it  the  beauty  of  the  sea, 
and  the  calm  thereof.     A  storm,  too,  could 


r3S3S5« 


i\ 


^'^~ 


I 


8  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

sweep  across  it,  like  that  of   the   angry 

ocean. 

The  captain  had  another  reason  for 
calling  his  companions  "boys."  They 
were  boys  again  down  by  the  sea.  It 
brought  back  to  them  the  boyhood  love  of 
fun.  The  drift-wood  from  far  and  near, 
cast  by  the  tide  upon  the  shore,  called  up 
the  bonfires  of  days  gone  out  of  time, 
but  not  out  of  memory.  The  minister 
lacked  the  courage  to  say  what  he  felt, — 
"  Let  us  be  boys  again."  But  one  evening 
he  did  get  so  far  as  to  say :  "  I  wish  our 
boys  were  here,  Doctor,  to  build  for  us  a 
bonfire  out  of  this  drift-wood.  It  would 
make  a  grand  one."  "  Veil,"  quickly  the 
doctor  responded,  "ve  vill  build  our  own 
bonfires,  and  be  boys  again  ourselves." 
The  doctor  was  born  a  German,  and, 
when  in  earnest,  made  sad  work  with  his 
w's,  though  at  other  times  his  English  was 
perfect  The  wood  was  gathered  by  the 
two  newly  made  boys,  and  placed  close  to 
a  large  bowlder.    The  match  was  lighted,  the 


< 


the   angry 

reason  for 
^s."  They 
the  sea.  It 
lood  love  of 
r  and  near, 
:e,  called  up 
lut  of  time, 
'he  minister 
it  he  felt, — 
one  evening 
"  I  wish  our 
did  for  us  a 
L    It  would 

quickly  the 
did  our  own 
1  ourselves." 
erman,  and, 
ork  with  his 

English  was 
ered  by  the 
Lced  close  to 
IS  lighted,  the 


> 


T 


THE  HOPEFUL  9 

fire  Started.  More  wood  was  piled  on,  until 
the  bonfire  rivalled  the  moon  in  its  light- 
giving-power.  If  the  fire  showed  any  signs 
of  decline,  the  doctor  would  call  out,  "  The 
fire  is  dwingling,"  and  start  off  for  a  box 
or  barrel  just  in  from  the  sea,  and  so  satu- 
rated with  fish-oil  that,  when  the  fire  got 
hold  of  it,  the  flames  would  mount  skyward 
as  if  they  meant  to  touch  the  clouds.  And 
with  the  ascending  flames  the  captain's 
spirit  would  rise.  Doctor  and  minister 
would  wait  for  him  to  open  the  conversa- 
tion which  was  always  a  part  of  these 
evenings  by  the  sea. 

"These  colors,"  began  the  captain, 
"  the  dark  blue  sea,  the  pale  moon,  the  red 
flames,  and  that  pathway  of  light  on  the 
waters  from  the  moon  to  our  feet  call  up 
my  old  notions  about  the  days  of  the  week. 
I  had  for  each  day  its  own  color." 

"How  was  that.  Captain?"  asked  the 
doctor. 

"  Well,  Doc.,  I'll  tell  you.  It  was  this 
way :  Monday  was  orange ;  Tuesday,  dark 


I 


e»>^ 


v 


if 


lo  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

blue;  Wednesday,  dark  red;  Thursday, 
purple ;  Friday,  gray ;  Saturday,  light  blue ; 
Sunday,  a  kind  of  pink.  And,  when  I'd 
think  of  the  day,  its  color  would  come  up 
at  once  and  fill  my  mind." 

"  Odd  ! "  said  the  minister. 

"One  gets  strange  notions  at  sea.  Par- 
son, But  I  rather  liked  my  notion.  It 
filled  up  the  time,  and  broke  the  monotony 
of  sailing ;  and  in  a  calm  it  was  most  help- 
ful." 

"  On  land  do  you  see  these  colors  ? "  in- 
quired the  minister. 

"  Not  now,  Parson.  But  then,  before  I 
gave  up  the  sea,  a  change  came  over  my 
colors.  I  see  now  all  the  days  as  white. 
All  the  colors  have  united  to  crown  all 
days  alike  with  white.  They  are  all  God's 
bright  days." 

"  Sunday  and  Monday  you  mean.  Cap- 
tain ? "  asked  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  all  alike;  good  and  for  good," 
answered  the  captain.  "  And,  Parson,  that 
reminds  me  of  something  I  want  to  say  to 


1 


F 


ISRAEL 

irk  red;  Thursday, 
Saturday,  light  blue ; 
ink.  And,  when  I'd 
color  would  come  up 
nd." 
dnister. 

notions  at  sea.  Par- 
iked  my  notion.     It 

I  broke  the  monotony 
ilm  it  was  most  help- 

;ee  these  colors  ? "  in- 

But  then,  before  I 
hange  came  over  my 

II  the  days  as  white, 
united  to  crown  all 

They  are  all  God's 

iday  you  mean.  Cap- 
tor. 

good  and  for  good," 

"  And,  Parson,  that 

hing  I  want  to  say  to 


THE  HOPEFUL  ii 

you.  You  don't  feel  hurt  that  old  Cap' 
Rogers  asked  me  to  say  the  words  to-mor- 
row at  the  grave,  when  we  put  his  boy  to 
rest?" 

"  Not  at  all,  Captain.  You  can  best  say 
the  word.  The  office  is  of  little  worth  at 
the  grave.  Things  are  so  real  there  that 
the  word  must  be  from  the  soul  to  reach 
the  soul." 

"  'Tis  this  way,  Parson.  When  I  came 
back  from  the  sea  to  live  again  in  this  my 
old  home,  I  brought  with  me  notions  of 
my  own  about  God  and  death  and  the 
great  life  beyond.  I  found  Lamartine  peo- 
ple, like  most  others,  in  darkness.  The 
days  of  the  week  to  them  were  not  unlike 
my  old  Friday,  pretty  gray,  and  often  dark 
altogether.  If  one  of  them  died,  oh,  what 
blackness.  Parson  t  And  the  parsons,  some- 
how, at  the  funerals  made  all  still  darker. 
In  the  church  the  moumfuUest  songs  were 
sung.  At  the  grave  all  hope  seemed  to  be 
buried  in  spite  of  what  they  said  about  im- 
mortalit}-.     And  so  I  said  to  myself, '  Cap' 


11 


1 


la  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

William  Israel,  God  has  called  you  to 
brighten  up  the  lives  of  these  people.'  And 
I  set  about  it.  And  one  bit  of  my  work  is 
that  our  funerals  have  some  light  and  hope 
to  them,  though  sad  enough  still.  That's 
why  Cap'  Rogers  wants  me  to  say  the 
words.  I'm  glad  you  feel  as  you  do  about 
it.  Parson." 

"  The  fire  has  dwingled  all  away,"  said 
the  doctor;  "and  it  is  too  cool  for  us  to 
stay  out  longer." 


th 
in 

g< 

Sti 

R 
m 

W( 
Wi 

Tl 
th 

«I 

tr 
A] 
wi 
or 
dr 


T*' 


.EL 

called  you  to 
people.'  And 
of  my  work  is 
light  and  hope 
1  still.  That's 
rje  to  say  the 
s  you  do  about 

all  away,"  said 
cool  for  us  to 


Chapter  III. 
CAPTAIN   ISRAEL  AT  THE  GRAVE. 

"  'Tis  time  we  were  going,  Parson,"  said 
the  captain,  about  ten  o'clock  on  the  morn- 
ing of  young  Rogers's  funeral.  "  You  are 
going  with  us,  Doc.  ? " 

The  doctor  said  he  was,  and  the  three 
started  of!  at  a  brisk  walk  for  old  Captain 
Rogers's  place. 

"You  see,  Parson,  Cap'  Rogers  was 
more  than  once  my  first  mate.  We  have 
weathered  many  a  storm  together.  And  he 
wants  me  to  help  him  weather  this  one. 
The  storms  at  sea  are  hard  enough;  but 
there  come  some  harder,  a  mighty  sight" 

"  We  need  some  one  to  say  to  the  waters, 
'  Peace  be  still,' "  said  the  minister. 

"  Yes,  Parson ;  but  the  voice  of  hope  and 
trust  always  says  that,  and  the  waters  obey. 
And,  when  to-day  you  pray,  fill  up,  Parson, 
with  hope.  Remember,  we  are  not  strangers 
or  servants  in  a  foreign  land.  We  are  chil- 
dren at  home  in  the  Father's  house.     That 


i 


i: 


tefc*^ 


1 


i    I 


I  !    Il 


,4  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

stills   the  fiercest  storm,  Parson.     I  have 

tried  it." 

"  I'll  try,"  was  all  the  minister  felt  like 

saying. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  Captain 
Rogers's  home,  a  plain  country  house  like 
its  neighbors,  perhaps  somewhat  larger, 
painted  white,  and  with  a  piazza  on  two 

sides. 

There  were  no  words  between  the  two 
old  captains  when  they  met.  They  looked 
at  each  other  and  understood  each  other. 
Captain  Israel  seemed  to  say,  "  I'm  stand- 
ing by,  Mate  " ;  and  Captain  Rogers  seemed 
to  reply,  "  I  know  it,  Cap'." 

CapUin  Israel  introduced  in  Lamartine 
a  new  way  of  conducting  funerals.  He 
had  the  young  men  carry  on  their  shoulders 
the  coffin  to  the  church.  Thus  burdened 
they  would  lead  the  procession.  And  so  it 
was  at  young  Rogers's  funeral :  the  young 
men  led;  then  came  the  neighbors,  men 
and  women,  young  and  old. 
The  church  to  which  they  were  going 


I 


.  -»b,.*-i4C*!'is--  -.««» yf.-?:i¥»**tt-»»*S'Sl*«..!((IWIW 


arson.     I  have 

linister  felt  like 

eached  Captain 

intry  house  like 

mewhat    larger, 

piazza  on  two 

tetween  the  two 
t.  They  looked 
:ood  each  other, 
lay,  "  I'm  stand- 
n  Rogers  seemed 

>d  in  Lamartine 
g  funerals.  He 
n  their  shoulders 

Thus  burdened 
}sion.  And  so  it 
neral :  the  young 

neighbors,  men 
1. 
they  were  going 


«ii«W>ii»rt'Mr*t*firiiiri 


T* 


THE  HOPEFUL  15 

was  the  town  church.  It  belongs  to  no 
one  sect :  all  have  rights  there.  It  is  a 
plain  white  structure,  with  Doric  columns 
in  front,  and  a  steeple  which  for  architect- 
ural symmetry  has  no  superior.  Back  of 
it  is  a  hill,  sloping  with  its  green  side  down 
to  the  foundation  of  the  church.  And  this 
quiet  spot,  which  always  catches  the  early 
sun  rays  as  they  sweep  across  the  sea,  is 
Lamartine's  cemetery. 

On  the  way  to  the  church  the  captain 
handed  the  minister  a  piece  of  paper. 
"  There,  Parson,"  said  he,  "  are  the  things 
I  wish  you'd  read  in  the  church." 

The  minister  took  the  paper,  and  on 
opening  it  saw  that  it  was  covered  with 
passages  cut  out  of  a  Bible  of  large  type. 
It  showed  signs  of  frequent  use. 

"  They  are  old.  Parson,  but  they  are 
good.  They  came  from  the  depths  of  great 
souls,  and  so  they'll  find  all  souls  in  their 
depths." 

The  extracts  were  from  the  twenty- 
third    Psalm,  and  the  one   hundred    and 


\ 


If 


( / 


i«  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

thirty-ninth  and  the  ninety-first;  also  the 
Beatitudes,  and  the  words  of  Jesus  about 
the  lilies  and  birds,  of  which  God  took 
such  care. 

»  And,  Parson,  read  this.  I  can't  do  it, 
but  you  can.  What  I  think  out  for  myself, 
that  I  can  speak." 

The  "  this  "  was  a  new  poem,  beginning, 

"  When  light  unveiled  her  radltnt  (ace, 
And  wrapped  the  world  in  her  embrace," 

and  with  a  chorus, — 

'•  Death  never, 

Life  ever  and  forever." 

It  was  this  chorus  best  pleased  the  cap- 
tain, and  he  asked  the  minister  to  read  it 
so  that  all  should  feel  it. 

The  procession  reached  the  church.  The 
minister  prayed,  then  read  the  Bible  pas- 
sages and  the  poem  handed  him  by  the 
captain.  And,  different  from  most  funerals, 
there  was  no  call  to  those  present  to  come 
and  take  a  farewell  of  the  dead.    "  For," 


Kmrnwr 


EL 

irst;  also  the 
f  Jesus  about 
ich  God  took 

I  can't  do  it, 
out  for  myself, 

em,  beginning, 

Uant  fact, 
ter  ambrace," 


id  foraver." 

leased  the  cap- 
ister  to  read  it 

le  church.  The 
the  Bible  pas- 
id  him  by  the 
I  most  funerals, 
resent  to  come 
dead.     "For," 


>'r   II  I   iiidtiftMi'i 


THE  HOPEFUL  17 

said  the  captain,  "  there  is  no  farewell  to 
take.     It  is 

" '  Death  never, 

Life  ever  and  forever.' " 

After  the  singing  of  a  hymn  the  choir, 
without  any  notice,  formed  a  procession, 
and  led  the  way  out  of  the  church  to  the 
cemetery.  They  were  followed  by  all  in 
the  church,  even  the  children  falling  into 
line.  As  they  moved  to  the  cemetery,  the 
choir  sang, — 

"  He  leadeth  me  I     O  blessed  thought  I " 

All  joined  in  the  last  verse,  closing, 

"  E'en  death's  cold  wave  I  will  not  flee, 
Since  'tis  my  God  that  leadeth  me." 

The  grave  was  reached  and  the  coffin 
lowered  before  the  singing  had  ended.  No 
earth  was  thrown  upon  that  coffin  to  chill 
with  sepulchral  sound.  Nor  was  that  holy 
air  profaned  by  the  words,  "  Dust  thou  art, 
and  unto  dust  shalt  thou  return." 


i8  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

The  captain  spoke :  "  My  friends,  often 
have  you  heard  me  say  what  I  am  to  say 
again  to-day.  From  this  our  hillside  rest- 
ing-place we  look  out  upon  the  broad  sea. 
As  we  stand  here,  the  sun  floods  both  sea 
and  hillside.  Our  lives  are  in  the  same  way 
flooded  by  the  infinite  life,  light,  and  love. 
At  our  feet  fall  the  shadows  of  the  trees, 
—  trees  we  love,  trees  of  our  own  plant- 
ing, most  of  them.  But  the  shadows  fall 
because  of  the  great  li^t.  Were  there  no 
light,  there  would  be  no  shadows.  Death 
is  a  shadow  cast  for  a  moment  on  our  path- 
way by  the  Infinite  Light. 

"  See,  too,  how  narrow  this  grave  is.  But 
mark  well  how  it  opens  out  into  the  bound- 
less sky.  Life  seems  narrow, —  yours  and 
mine ;  but,  like  to  the  grave,  it  opens  out 
into  the  Infinite  Life  above."' 

Thus  spoke  the  captain ;  and,  when  he 
had  finished,  he  gave  a  nod  to  the  choir, 
which  they  understood.  They  formed  and 
led  the    procession    as  before,   this  time 

singing, 

"  Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee." 


1;^ 


^tSSScsBMSm 


tsj.sajrgffv'v 


'*« 


-f^''L'£ii^ 


'">  ,.., 


lEL 

friends,  often 
it  I  am  to  say 
r  hillside  rest- 
the  broad  sea. 
loods  both  sea 
1  the  same  way 
ight,  and  love. 
s  of  the  trees, 
)ur  own  plant- 
B  shadows  fall 
Were  there  no 
idows.  Death 
It  on  our  path- 
grave  is.  But 
nto  the  bound- 
N, —  yours  and 

e,  it  opens  out 

» 

and,  when  he 
I  to  the  choir, 
ey  formed  and 
ore,   this  time 


THE  HOPEFUL  19 

Slowly  they  marched  out  of  the  cemetery, 
all  singing  as  best  they  could  the  uplifting 
hymn.  As  they  neared  the  gate,  the  last 
verse  was  reached :  — 

"  Or  if  on  joyful  wing 
Cleaving  the  sky, 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars  forgot, 

Upward  I  fly, 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee. 
Nearer  to  thee." 

It  was  a  note  of  victory. 

When  all  was  over.  Captain  Israel  and 
Captain  Rogers  stood  apart  by  themselves 
near  the  church  door.  They  seemed  to  be 
alone  on  shipboard,  looking  out  on  a  heavy 
sea  which  they  must  weather  together. 
Their  faces  were  filled  with  the  hope  which 
proclaimed  the  Infinite  Harbor  in  sight. 
The  two  parted.  Then  all  left  the  cemetery 
again  to  the  sea,  the  sky,  and  God. 


hee.'» 


Chapter  IV. 


THE  WATER  OF   LIFE. 

Back  of  Captain  Israel's  house  was 
a  spring,  known  far  and  wide  as  "  The 
Spring,"  and  celebrated  for  the  purity  of 
its  water. 

To  get  to  it  from  the  captain's  place,  a 
small,  well-wooded  hill  had  to  be  climbed ; 
and  the  pathway  was  rough  and  stony,  so 
that  on  a  warm  day  the  short  journey 
thither  would  tire  one  and  cause  him  to 
long  for  water.  For  this  reason,  as  well  as 
others,  this  journey  was  one  of  the  Cap- 
tain's pleasantest  occupations. 

After  an  early  breakfast  the  captain 
would  ask,  "  Who  is  for  the  spring  ? "  He 
would  wait  a  minute,  and  ask  again :  "  Who 
is  for  the  spring  ?  Eh,  Parson  1  Well, 
Doc.  1 "  Both  were  generally  glad  to  go 
with  the  captain,  especially  the  minister. 

It  was  on  a  certain  hot  August  morning 
that  the  three  climbed  the  stony  little  hill. 
They  were  without  coats,  and  their  hats 


M, 


^^MMMH 


m^l'' 


J&- 


LIFE. 

s  house  was 
ide  as  "The 
the  purity  of 

tain's  place,  a 
o  be  climbed ; 
and  stony,  so 
short  journey 
cause  him  to 
son,  as  well  as 
5  of  the  Cap- 

the  captain 
spring  ? "  He 
again:  "Who 
arson  1  Well, 
iy  glad  to  go 
le  minister, 
igust  morning 
tony  little  hill, 
nd  their  hats 


> 


CAPTAIN  ISRAEL  21 

were  in  their  hands.  And,  though  he  had 
often  taken  the  journey,  the  captain,  when 
they  reached  the  spring,  was  the  most  ex- 
hausted of  the  three.  Yet  he  waited  until 
his  companions  had  taken  of  the  water 
before  he  drank.  "I  like  to  be  awfully 
thirsty  when  I  drink  here.  When  as  a 
boy  I  came  to  this  spring,  it  tasted  better 
than  anything  else  on  earth.  And,  when 
out  on  the  sea,  many  a  time  I  have  longed 
to  be  beside  it,  kneeling  down  and  drink- 
ing until  I  could  drink  no  more." 

About  the  spring  is  a  stone  wall,  which 
holds  the  water  as  in  a  well.  The  doctor 
asked  when  it  was  built. 

"Not  long  since,  only  about  five  years 
ago,  Doc.  We  used  to  kneel  to  drink,  not 
dip  into  the  water  with  a  tin  cup  as  we  do 
now.  And,  do  you  know,  I  think  it  was  a 
good  way  to  do,  to  kneel.  I'm  glad  that 
as  boy  and  man  I've  knelt  here.  It  has 
made  of  this  place  a  holy  spot,  a  sacred 

shrine." 

The  minister  said  something  about  the 

water  of  life. 


■I 


:'  ll 


sa  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

"Just  what  I've  often  called  it,  Parson. 
It  is  when  one's  thirsty,  and  comes  to  a 
cool  spring  like  this  and  drinks,  that  he 
knows  what  a  blessing  water  is.  And  it  is 
the  same  with  real  religion.  When  one 
knows  God  as  his  Father  and  Friend,  and 
the  knowledge  lives  in  him,  religion  is 
like  this  spring:  it  is  water  springing  up 
unto  everlasting  life.  It  comes  as  this 
water  does  from  unseen  depths,  pure,  cool, 
fresh,  living.  That's  a  sermon  for  you. 
Parson." 

"  I  expect,"  said  the  doctor,  "  to  hear  the 
parson  giving  us  all  winter  many  sermons 
he's  got  out  of  you.  Captain." 

"  Oh,  let  him.  Doc.  They're  not  mine. 
They  are  out  of  Nature's  heart,  out  of  God, 
rather ;  for  I  like  that  better.  Now  I  don't 
say  anything  against  books,  but  I  wonder  if 
it  would  not  be  well  if  the  parsons  talked 
less  than  they  do  out  of  books." 

"  But,  Captain,  there  is  one  book  that  is 
the  water  of  life,"  said  the  minister. 

"  No,  it  isn't.  Parson :  that's  where  you 
are  wrong." 


tSSS^S 


^^^^^^ni 


mm 


i&i. 


lEL 

led  it,  Parson, 
d  comes  to  a 
rinks,  that  he 

is.  And  it  is 
I.  When  one 
d  Friend,  and 
n,   religion    is 

springing  up 
:omes  as  this 
:hs,  pure,  cool, 
mon    for  you, 

•,  "  to  hear  the 
many  sermons 

^'re  not  mine, 
rt,  out  of  God, 
Now  I  don't 
mt  I  wonder  if 
parsons  talked 
s." 

e  book  that  is 
inister. 
it's  where  you 


THE  HOPEFUL  *$ 

•'But  I  have  met  none  who  honor  the 

Bible  more  than  you  do,  Captain.     And  I 

wish  in  my  heart  it  was  to  me  what  it 

seems  to  be  to  you." 

"The  trouble  is  you  make  the  Bible  a 
part  of  your  profession,  a  tool  only.  It 
would  be  a  good  thing  to  leave  it,  if  you 
could,  and  come  to  it  thirsty:  then  you'd 
see  the  difference  between  the  Bible  and 
the  water  of  life  it  helps  you  to." 

"How  can  I?"  earnestly  inquired  the 

minister. 

"  Eh,  Parson,  that  is  easier  asked  than 
answered.     Somehow,  the  Bible  came  to 
me,  not  I  to  it.    It  found  me,  not  I  it. 
The  truth  is,  I  did  not  much  care  for  it; 
but  I  began  to  read  it  on  dull  days  on  the 
ship.    I  read  it  just  as  it  is.    I  did  not 
know  much  about   the  things  about  the 
Bible,  not  as   much  as   I  know  now.    I 
had  never  heard  of   higher  criticism  or 
lower  criticism  or  any  other  kind  of  cnti- 
cism.     I    did    not  read  it  with  any  idea 
whether  I  believed  it  or  didn't  beUeve  it    I 


il 


»i  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

just  read  it.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  it  came 
tome  —  a  man  over  forty  —  with  as  much 
interest  as  old  Robinson  Crusoe  did  when 
I  was  a  boy." 

"  I'd  give  the  better  part  of  my  practice," 
exclaimed  the  doctor,  "  if  I  could  say  that." 

"I'd  do  more,"  cried  the  minister. 
"  Robinson  Crusoe  once  lived  for  me  as 
the  Bible  never  has." 

"  Eh,  Parson,  it  is  a  living  book,  when 
you  get  at  it.  I  now  treat  the  books  as 
living,  their  writers  as  living.  They  talk  to 
me  in  the  flesh,  and  I  talk  back.  They 
say  what  they  have  to  say.  I  listen,  and 
what  finds  me  I  take :  what  don't,  I  have 
to  leave.  What  is  water  to  my  soul  I 
drink.  What  is  not  water  I  can't  drink. 
I  don't  feel  boimd  up  by  Amos  or  Isaiah 
any  more  than  I  do  by  you.  Parson.  Nor 
do  I  let  Paul  have  all  his  own  way.  And, 
as  for  Matthew,  Mark,  Luke,  and  John,  I 
sometimes  think  I  see  beyond  them  to  a 
Jesus  they  did  not  themselves  see." 

"  How  is  that,  Captain  ? "  both  asked. 


■^■ja!!8awBk^*»»»*Ii»4^tiii»iJlbMl 


truth,  it  came 
irith  as  much 
loe  did  when 

my  practice," 
iild  say  that." 
:he  minister. 
:d  for  me  as 

book,  when 
he  books  as 

They  talk  to 
back.    They 

I  listen,  and 
don't,  I  have 
)  my  soul  I 

can't  drink, 
los  or  Isaiah 
Parson.  Nor 
1  way.  And, 
,  and  John,  I 
d  them  to  a 
see." 
oth  asked. 


THE  HOPEFUL  a 5 

"Sec  here.  Let  us  take  this  spring. 
You  sec  that  drain  which  carries  away  the 
surplus  water.  The  water  as  it  flows  into 
the  drain  is  good  and  pure ;  but  soon  leaves 
float  on  it,  and  particles  of  dust  cover  it,  so 
that  it  is  not  the  same  clear  water  it  was 
when  it  left  the  spring.  A  Uttle  way  down 
you'd  hardly  think  it  was  water  from  the 
spring  at  all.  It  is  not  the  same  clear 
water  as  comes  bubbling  up  from  the  white 
sand  below." 

All  three,  as  by  impulse,  took  a  fresh 
look  into  the  spring,  and  marked  again  the 
stirring  of  the  white  sands  within. 

The  captain  took  up  his  parable,  and  ex- 
plained it :  "  Now  the  noble  spirit  of  the 
prophets  is  the  clear  water.  The  spirit  of 
the  greatest  of  prophets,  Jesus,  is  the 
world's  clearest  water.  But  leaves  and 
dust  have  gathered  upon  these  waters. 
The  writers  and  speakers,  one  and  all,  have 
let  leaves  fall  upon  the  waters  from  their 
trees  of  supposed  knowledge ;  and  dust,  too, 
from  ancient  thought  has  fallen  upon  them, 


;< 

.,?.' 

* 


IKftjtfinffi!<iiiiiirii  iilfttiinr-1  »a.at.';  ^i-it^.^ 


.-:»?asSfca(»»s«'^' 


36  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

and  these  have  destroyed  the  purity  of  the 
waters  of  the  spirit.  I  feel  I  can  pick  up 
a  leaf  here  which  fell  from  Jewish  writers 
who  wanted  a  conquering  Messiah,  or  one 
there  that  fell  from  the  limited  scientific 
knowledge  of  the  age,  or  that  I  can  filter 
out  the  dust  of  rabbinical  lore  which  lies 
thick  on  the  surface  of  Paul's  letters." 

"  But,  Captain,"  said  the  minister,  •'  that 
needs  great  scholarship." 

"  Eh,  Parson,  it  does.  But  not  so  much 
after  all  as  it  needs  a  soul.  Let  me  change 
the  figure,  Parson.  Some  people,  you  know, 
in  religion  would  sooner  have  a  cartload  of 
quartz  than  a  few  nuggets  of  pure  gold. 
They  want  bulk.  Their  faith  is  a  matter 
of  length  and  weight.  Now,  I  say.  Parson, 
that  I  have  an  idea  that  I  can  tell  the 
words  of  Jesus  just  as  a  miner  can  gold. 
His  words  sparkle  as  diamonds  do.  My 
soul  feels  the  sparkle.  And  this  is  true  of 
all  the  writers  of  the  Bible  worth  reading." 
"  You  mix  up  your  figures.  Captain,"  said 
the  doctor. 


.EL 

e  purity  of  the 
I  can  pick  up 
Jewish  writers 
[essiah,  or  one 
lited  scientific 
lat  I  can  filter 
ore  which  lies 
s  letters." 
minister,  "that 

It  not  so  much 
Let  me  change 
ople,  you  know, 
e  a  cartload  of 
of  pure  gold, 
th  is  a  matter 
,  I  say.  Parson, 
I  can  tell  the 
miner  can  gold, 
(londs  do.  My 
d  tlus  is  true  of 
worth  reading." 
\,  Captain,"  said 


THE  HOPEFUL  tj 

"  Perhaps  so,  Doc. ;  but  the  spirit  of  the 
Bible  is  the  pure  water,  or  it  is  like  the 
gold  in  the  quartz,  or  like  the  diamond  in 
brightness.  One  can't  read  the  Bible 
freely  and  honestly  without  its  spirit  send- 
ing a  thrill  of  life  through  his  soul.  The 
Bible  is  not  the  water  of  life.  It  is  like 
that  wall  which  holds  the  waters  of  this 
spring,  or  it  is  like  this  cup  with  which  we 
dip  up  water.  But,  mark  you,  this  spring 
is  not  the  only  spring  of  water,  nor  does 
even  the  Bible  hold  all  the  water  of  life. 
God  is  infinite." 

"  I  wish,"  said  the  doctor,  "  that  we  could 
carry  this  spring  back  with  us." 

"  No,  Doc.  I'm  glad  you  can't.  If  you 
could,  it  would  be  like  the  parson's  Bible, 
dead.  Let  it  stay  here  in  its  native  hills 
and  with  its  old  companions,  the  trees ;  and 
so  with  your  Bible,  study  it  amid  its  own 
surroundings." 

"  One  more  drink',"  said  the  doctor,  "  be- 
fore we  return." 


0~- 


i 


i 


Chapter  V. 
THE  AWAKENING. 

"I  SAID,"  began  the  captain,  "that  I'd 
tell  you  how  my  eyes  were  opened.  I  don't 
wonder,  after  my  experience,  that  Paul  and 
those  who  tell  us  of  his  conversion  said  a 
great  light  shone  abouc  him.  Only  in  my 
case  all  was  very  quiet." 

"  As  it  should  be,"  put  in  the  doctor,  who 
was  prejudiced  against  excitement  in  relig- 
ion. 

"  Perhaps  the  reason  I  never  took  to  a 
stormy  way  of  '  getting  religion,'  "  the  cap- 
tain continued,  "  is  that  I  have  had  storm 
enough  en  the  sea." 

"  Besides,  it  is  bad  for  the  nervous  sys- 
tem," remarked  the  doctor.  "I  think 
people  ought  to  be  decent  about  religion, 
above  all  things.  What  did  the  apostle 
say  about  doing  things  decently  and  in 
order?" 

"  I  think  they  ought  to  be  religious,  above 
all  things.     And  a  judicious  shock  to  the 


V. 

;ning. 

aptain,  "that  I'd 
opened.  I  don't 
ce,  that  Paul  and 
conversion  said  a 
»im.     Only  in  my 

in  the  doctor,  who 
ccitement  in  relig- 

[  never  took  to  a 
ligion,' "  the  cap- 
:  have  had  storm 

the  nervous  sys- 
tctor.  "  I  think 
nt  about  religion, 

did  the  apostle 
decently  and  in 

be  religious,  above 
lous  shock  to  the 


CAPTAIN  ISRAEL  29 

nervous  system  of  some  optimists  would  do 
them  and  others  good."  This,  of  course, 
was  from  the  minister,  who  had  to  battle 
with  indifference  to  religion  of  all  kinds, 
—  that  which  shocked  the  nervous  system 
and  that  which  left  that  system  untouched. 
"Please  go  on  with  your  story.  Captain. 
The  Doctor  and  I  will  have  this  out  at 
another  time." 

"  It  is  a  short  story ;  but,  short  as  it  is,  it 
has  to  do  with  two  continents.  Part  of  it 
belongs  to  Lamartine,  and  part  of  it  has  to 
do  with  a  haven  in  Scotland.  Mrs.  Bidford, 
too,  has  her  part  in  it.  She  was  not  al- 
ways what  she  is  now  in  her  way  of  think- 
ing. Once  she  was  what  they  call  good 
and  sound  in  doctrine,  or  at  least  she 
thought  so.  She  honestly  believed  that 
she  believed  what  she  professed. 

"  I  was  kind  of  off,  at  least  according  to 
common  report.  I  could  not  help  it,  any 
more  than  I  could  help  breathing  if  I  in- 
tended to  keep  alive.  It  was  in  the  air. 
The  preachers  were  having  it  back  and 


30  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

forth  about  Adam  and  creation,  I  never 
could  feel  a  bit  sorry  about  my  share  in  the 
sin  of  Adam.  And  I  came  to  think  I  had 
no  part  in  it  at  all. 

"  Then,  again,  the  rocks  and  stars  were 
against  Genesis.  And,  somehow,  the  ways 
the  preachers  tried  to  get  the  Genesis  story 
of  creation  into  harmony  with  the  creation 
story  told  by  rocks  and  stars  didn't  seem 
to  me  to  be  square  dealing  with  either  of 

them. 

"  I  kept  on  doubting  and  doubting  about 
Bible  stories,  floods,  and  sun  sUnding  still, 
and  angels  coming  down,  and  interferences 
generally,  until  I  said,  '  There  is  no  such 
thing  as  a  miracle:  the  glory  of  God  is  in 
the  order  and  beauty  of  things.'     I  got  just 
where  the  good  people  all  swd  I  would. 
They  were  sorry  for  me,  and  there  was 
need  of  it.     Perhaps  you  think  this  thing 
called  freedom  was  a  comforuble  thing  to 
have.     Well,  it  wasn't.     It  was  so  new  that 
I  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it,  and  I 
didn't  know  what  it  was  going  to  do  with 


AEL 

ition,     I   never 

my  share  in  the 

to  think  I  had 

and  stars  were 
nehow,  the  ways 
tte  Genesis  story 
fith  the  creation 
ars  didn't  seem 
ig  with  either  of 

i  doubting  about 
in  standing  still, 
ind  interferences 
'here  is  no  such 
ory  of  God  is  in 
ings.'     I  got  just 
11  siud  I  would, 
and  there  was 
think  this  thing 
iforuble  thing  to 
:  was  so  new  that 
do  with  it,  and  I 
going  to  do  with 


THE  HOPEFUL  3« 

me.     There  were  times  when  I  wished  I 
was  back  again  to  where    I   could  take 
things  just  as  they  are  written,  and  ask  no 
questions ;  but  that  couldn't  be,  it  was  too 
late.     There  was  no  use  in  trying :  I  could 
not  get  back.     I  had  to  go  out,  and  in  the 
sweat  of  my  brow  earn  my  own  faith." 
"  Tiie  fall  over  again,"  said  the  doctor. 
"That's  so;   and  I  think  that  perhaps 
some  such  meaning  as  I  found  in  my  ex- 
perience is  at  the  bottom  of  the  story  of 
the  cherubim  and  the  flaming  sword  at  the 
gate  of  the  garden  from  which  poor  Adam 
is  said  to  have  been  banished." 

"  After  we  eat  of  the  tree  of  knowledge," 
said  the  minister,  "  we  can  never  think  as 
we  thought  before  we  ate." 

"  But  Mrs.  Bidford,  Parson,  was  afraid  to 
eat.  She,"  the  captain  went  on,  "  held  on 
with  might  and  main  to  the  '  sound  doc- 
trines.' I  remember  well  the  day  I  met 
her  in  Warren  &  Birch's  store  opposite  the 
church.  And  I  remember,  too,  what  she 
was  buying.     I'll  never  forget  it.     .U  was  a 


■Ha 


3a  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

paper  of  hooks  and  eyes.  In  our  conver- 
sation we  got  round  to  religion,  as  we  al- 
ways did  when  we  talked  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  together.  You  know  that  the  weather, 
the  crops,  the  church  and  its  squabbles, 
religion  of  some  sort,  and  the  aches  and 
pains  of  the  people  cover  most  all  we  have 
to  talk  about  in  this  quiet  town.  Politics 
has  its  place ;  but,  as  we  are  most  all  of 
one  party  up  here,  there's  no  great  excite- 
ment over  politics. 

"  But  on  that  day,  a  cold  February  morn- 
ing, which  perhaps  made  us  both  a  bit 
sharper  than  need  be,  Mrs.  Bidford  and  I 
did  not  get  along  as  well  as  usual.  I  per- 
haps was  to  blame.  Be  that  as  it  may,  we 
got  round  to  miracles ;  and  we  argued  and 
argued.  And  I  think  even  now  that  I  was 
getting  the  better  of  the  argument,  when 
she  up  and  said:  <I  don't  want  to  hear 
another  word,  Captain  Israel.  I've  heard 
all  I  want  to  I'  With  that  she  shut  both 
her  eyes  tight  as  she  could,  and  said  right 
out  in  earnest :  '  I'll  go  it  blind  1    I'll  go  it 


■5r;py>T'. 


1> 


/ 


AEL 

In  our  conver- 
igion,  as  we  al- 
i  quarter  of  an 
hat  the  weather, 
.  its  squabbles, 

the  aches  and 
tost  all  we  have 

town.  Politics 
are  most  all  of 
no  great  excite- 

February  morn- 
us  both  a  bit 
.  Bidford  and  I 
s  usual.  I  per- 
it  as  it  may,  we 
we  argued  and 
now  that  I  was 
argument,  when 
't  want  to  hear 
lel.  I've  heard 
t  she  shut  both 
,  and  said  right 
ilind  I    I'll  go  it 


THE  HOPEFUL  33 

blind  1  I'm  as  blind  to  all  your  arguments. 
Captain,  as  one  of  these  eyes  I '  pointing  to 
the  paper  of  hooks  and  eyes  she  had  just 
purchased,  and  which  she  held  up  in  her 
hand  for  me  to  see.  Just  then  like  a  flash 
the  words  came  to  me ;  and  I  said, '  Mrs, 
Bidford,  God  is  light.'  I  think  the  words 
did  us  both  good." 

The  captain  paused.  He  was  living 
over  again  the  scene ;  for  he  went  on,  half 
to  himself  and  half  to  his  companions :  — 

"  It  all  seems  but  yesterday,  though  it  is 
nigh  on  to  twenty  years  ago. 

"My  eyes  were  open.  I  wanted  them 
filled  with  light.  And,  of  all  places  to  look 
for  help,  it  seemed  to  me  that  Scotland  was 
the  last.  The  thought  of  its  Calvinism 
always  gave  me  a  chill  worse  than  the 
coldest  day  on  shipboard.  But  to  me 
Scotland  is  now  a  land  of  light  and  bless- 
ing. And  this  is  il&  way  it  came  about. 
My  business  took  me  to  the  city  of  Aber- 
deen. After  transacting  part  of  it,  I  had  to 
wait  a  day  or  two  before  I  could  wind  it 


■If 


1' 


':, 


P 


!»>I^^^BBisss*M»s»<aaw<*«i«i*>te«*'**45»»fc>«»*'«^'» 


^u 


34  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

up.  What  was  I  to  do  with  this  spare 
time  ?  I  asked  myself.  But  I  soon  settled 
that  matter.  I  had  long  wanted  to  see  the 
fisher-folk  of  Scotland.  So  down  to  Stone- 
haven I  went,  a  seacoast  town  about  fifteen 
miles  by  the  railroad  from  Aberdeen. 

"  After  I  had  satisfied  my  curiosity  to  its 
full  with  the  fishermen,  and  was  walking 
back  to  the  railway  station,  I  passed  a  bit 
of  a  shop.  In  it  was  a  small  window, 
across  which  was  stretched  a  string,  to 
which  pipes  and  tobacco,  candies  and  cakes 
were  hung.  In  the  midst  of  this  array  of 
small  goods  was  a  little  red  limp-covered 
book.  It  was  close  to  the  glass;  and  I 
could  read  its  title,  *  Conduct  of  Life,'  by 
R.  W.  Emerson.  Now  this  might  not  have 
attracted  me  at  home;  but  there,  in  such 
company,  and  in  a  distant  land,  I  was 
drawn  to  it.  I  went  into  the  bit  of  a  shop, 
in  which  there  was  hardly  room  enough  to 
turn  round,  and  bought  the  book  for  a  shil- 
ling. And  I  have  often  said  it  was  the 
cheapest  and  richest  kingdom  man  ever 
purchased. 


EL 

ith  this  spare 
I  soon  settled 
ted  to  see  the 
lown  to  Stone- 
1  about  fifteen 
>erdeen. 
curiosity  to  its 

was  walking 
!  passed  a  bit 
•mall  window, 

a  string,  to 
iies  and  cakes 
:  this  array  of 
[  limp-covered 
glass;  and  I 
t  of  Life,'  by 
aight  not  have 
there,  in  such 

land,  I  was 
bit  of  a  shop, 
[>m  enough  to 
ook  for  a  shil- 
d  it  was  the 
)m  man  ever 


THE  HOPEFUL  35 

"  When  I  began  to  read,  somehow  I  did 
not  take  to  the  first  chapter.  But  I  turned 
to  the  one  on  '  Worship,'  and  read  and  read 
again.  Life  came  to  me,  light  poured  in 
upon  me.  I  felt  that  here  in  this  book  I 
was  in  company  with  a  true  believer,  a 
man  of  faith.  He  said,  *  We  are  born  be- 
lieving.' I  felt  that  faith  meant  a  trust  in 
the  highest  word  of  your  own  soul,  trust  in 
God  in  you  and  in  all.  Every  line  of  the 
chapter  opened  up  for  me  my  own  soul,  and 
I  felt  that  the  sum  of  the  religion  of  Jesus 
was  implicit  trust  in  God  as  our  real 
Father." 

"You'd  call  that  conversion.  Captain, 
would  you  not  ? " 

"  I  don't  mind.  Parson,  what  you  call  it. 
I  only  know  that  I  sav  the  light" 


t 


M 


i. 


m 


mmimmiimmimamiBmm»MmmMm!:mam*i*i!ismi»»- ' 


r~ 


i 
( 


Chapter  VI. 
ON  THE  OCEAN. 

"The  saddest  and  yet  the  trip  that 
touched  my  life  deepest  was  one  I  took 
from  New  York  to  New  Orleans  and  back. 

"  We  were  to  go  by  Key  West ;  and  as 
that  was  my  wife's  native  place,  I  took  her 
with  me.  And  we  took  our  boy  with  us,  a 
little  fellow  over  a  year  old,  our  only  son. 

« I  can  imderstand,  Parson,  as  I  could 
not  at  one  time,  why,  when  Abraham  was 
asked  to  sacrifice  Isaac,  the  command  runs, 
*  Take  now  thy  son,  thine  only  son  whom 
thou  lovest,  even  Isaac'  Of  course,  I 
can't  think  God  asked  the  sacrifice ;  but 
the  writer  of  the  story  wants  to  show  how 
the  human  affections  triumphed  over  an  old 
and  false  faith.  I  don't  care  much  for  the 
story,  but  I  do  like  the  writer.  I  like  him 
for  the  emphasis  he  puts  on  a  father's  love. 
Fathers  can  love,  eh,  Parson  ? " 

"I  have  found  it  so,  Captain.  How 
came  Jesus  to  place  in  the  foreground  of 


(.- 


I 


the  trip  that 
is  one  I  took 
ians  and  back. 
West;  and  as 
,ce,  I  took  her 
boy  with  us,  a 
,  our  only  son. 
>n,  as  I  could 

Abraham  was 
command  runs, 
mly  son  whom 

Of  course,   I 

sacrifice ;  but 
s  to  show  how 
led  over  an  old 
e  much  for  the 
er.  I  like  him 
a  father's  love. 
I?" 
Captain.     How 

foreground  of 


CAPTAIN  ISRAEL  37 

his  teaching  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  if  he 
had  not  found  in  Joseph  a  father's  deep 
affection  ? " 

"  But  how  we  nave  marred  and  blurred 
it,  Parson  1 "  said  the  doctor.  "  We  physi- 
cians find  how  strong  is  the  father's  love." 

"  Well,  Doctor,  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say 
that.  That  God  is  my  Father,  real  and  im- 
mediate, everywhere  and  always,  has  gone 
to  the  very  roots  of  my  soul  with  life-giving 
power.  The  parsons  seem  to  be  afraid  of 
it,  as  too  good  to  believe.  Now  there  is 
nothing  too  good  for  me  to  believe  about 
God." 

"  You  were  on  your  way  to  New  Orleans, 
Captain,"  the  minister  remarked,  to  draw 
the  captain  back  to  his  story. 

"  So  I  was.  Parson, — so  I  was.  We  sailed 
south  to  Key  West,  where  I  left  my  wife 
and  boy,  and  went  with  the  ship  to  New 
Orleans,  where  we  took  on  a  cargo  of  mo- 
lasses, bound  for  New  York.  In  less  than 
a  month  we  were  back  again  to  Key  West 
There  my  wife  again  came  aboard.     But  I 


I . 


£Sni^s*W*«*»*-'' 


38  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

noticed  that  she  was  not  quite  as  brisk  as 
when  I  left  her;  nor  was  the  boy,  either. 
Not  much  the  matter,  though,  I  said  to  my- 
self. She  seemed  anxious  to  come  aboard, 
more  so  than  I  expected.  For  my  part,  I 
thought  she  would  be  loath  to  leave  her 
folk  so  soon.  But  we  were  not  long  out 
to  sea  when  I  discovered  the  cause  of  her 
readiness  to  get  away  from  Key  West, 
for  both  wife  and  boy  were  taken  suddenly 
ill.  How  I  dreaded  to  let  the  thought  have 
place  in  my  mind.  Nor  would  I  give  it 
place  there,  until  my  wife  said  to  me, 
'  Yellow  fever,  husband,  both  of  us.'  " 

The  captain  looked  out  upon  the  sea,  his 
face  lighted  with  a  glory  not  before  seen  by 
his  companions.  They  expected  great  sad- 
ness and  were  astonished  at  the  transfigu- 
ration of  his  countenance. 

"  A  few  days,"  said  the  captain  "  com- 
pleted the  work.  They  died.  There  is  no 
need  of  telling  of  my  loneliness,  or  of  saying 
that  fear  as  well  as  sorrow  was  aboard  our 
ship.  Few  of  us  care  to  die, — least  of  all, 
rough  sailors. 


AEL 

aite  as  brisk  as 
the  boy,  either. 
;h,  I  said  to  my- 
to  come  aboard, 
For  my  part,  I 
th  to  leave  her 
e  not  long  out 
;he  cause  of  her 
om  Key  West, 
!  taken  suddenly 
the  thought  have 
vould  I  give  it 
fe  said  to  me, 
:h  of  us.' " 
ipon  the  sea,  his 
it  before  seen  by 
lected  great  sad- 
at  the  transfigu- 

captain  "com- 
;d.  There  is  no 
less,  or  of  saying 
was  aboard  our 
lie, — least  of  all, 


THE  HOPEFUL  39 

«« You  know  how  we  bury  at  sea,  eh.  Par- 


son?" 

"  I  think  so.  Captain." 


"  I  got  my  loved  ones  ready  for  their 
ocean  graves.  And  when  all  was  ready 
I  was  alone.  I  did  not  ask  any  on 
board  to  come  near.  The  men  quietly 
attended  to  their  duties.  It  was  a  bright 
night,  the  sea  was  still,  the  stars  above 
made  tlie  ocean  seem  a  second  heaven 
beneath.  So  that  it  has  always  appeared 
to  me  that  I  let  my  dead  move  away  from 
me  between  two  bright  heavens  which  gave 
welcome  to  my  dear  ones. 

«« What  do  you  think  of  that  last  book  in 
the  New  Testament,  eh.  Parson  ? "  abruptly 
asked  the  captain. 

The  minister  hesitated  to  answer.  He 
wished  to  be  true  to  himself,  but  his  train- 
ing and  profession  stood  somewhat  in  his 
way.  But  he  answered:  "It is  somewhat 
puziung,  and  I  think  that  commentators 
have  made  it  more  mysterious  than  it  really 
is.    There  are  some  fine  thoughts  in  it." 


I  4 


,' 


MMMaawMMMaHM 


■Hiiii 


fT 


40  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

"  That  isn't  saying  much,  Parson.  But 
it  is  those  very  fine  passages  that  I  don't 
care  much  for.  And  you  parsons  read 
them  at  funerals.  I  mean, '  There  shall  be 
no  more  sea  there,  no  more  night  there.' 
What  glorious  revelations  of  God  we  shall 
miss  without  these  I  The  sky  and  sea  are 
two  leaves  of  the  great  folio  edition  of 
God's  real  and  wonderful  revelation.  They 
are  part  of  an  Old  Testament  back  of  the 
Oldest  Testament  ever  written.  They  are 
open  pages  on  which  are  written  God's 
wisdom,  care,  and  love.  Jesus  loved  the 
sl^  and  sea." 

The  captain  ceased  talking,  and  stood 
looking  out  upon  the  waters  before  him. 
There  was  companionship  between  him 
and  them.  Neither  minister  nor  doctor 
wished  to  disturb  him.  They  led  the  way 
along  the  sandy  beach  toward  home.  The 
captain  followed  a  few  steps  behind. 


EL 

Parson.  But 
I  that  I  don't 
parsons  read 
rhere  shall  be 
t  night  there.' 
God  we  shall 
y  and  sea  are 
lio  edition  of 
ilation.  They 
It  back  of  the 
sn.  They  are 
written  God's 
)us  loved  the 

tg,  and  stood 
I  before  him. 
between  him 
sr  nor  doctor 
:y  led  the  way 
1  home.  The 
3ehind. 


Chapter  VII. 

SEEING  GOD. 

It  was  near  the  end  of  their  vacation 
when  Captain  Israel  gave  to  his  compan- 
ions an  account  of  a  visit  he  paid  to  Boston 
as  a  delegate  to  the  May  anniversary  meet- 
ings.    "This  is  how   I  came,"  said  the 
captain,  "to  take  to  that  verse  in  John's 
Gospel  where  Jesus  is  made  to  say,  'He 
that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father.' 
I  was  going  down  to  Boston;  and    the 
church  folk  said  that,  as  I  was  going  any- 
way, I  might  as  well  as  not  represent  them 
at  the  meetings.    When  I  got  there  and 
heard  the  speeches  and  essays,  I  said, '  Well, 
some  of  these  meetings  are  good,  some  only 
passable,'  leastwise  that  is  how  they  struck 
me.     And,  as  I  listened,  I  would  sometimes 
wish  that  the  ministers  talked  more  out  of 
a  closer  touch  with  real  things  than  so 
much  out  of  books.     But  that's  one  of  my 
prejudices,  as  you  know. 
"But  there  was  one  meeting  I'll  never 


■' 


■(, 


y 


iJ«iimWWiifM*iinri'-ii'-wftn"r  (-— *^-«a***- 


.jf,t^it»i,^^,Mme'  r-*»«.»w;t*k=--;--^'«»"»>*'»H»-^ 


I    r 


4a  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

forget.  It  was  not  only  what  I  got  in  the 
meeting,  but  what  I  got  after  it.  Perhaps 
it  was  after  the  meeting  I  got  most  good. 

"  You  know,  Parson,  the  street  opposite 
the  Public  Garden.  And  you  know  there 
are  art  stores  along  the  street.  It  was 
Wednesday  morning,  and  the  meetings 
seemed  to  have  taken  a  rest ;  for  there  was 
to  be  no  meeting  tmtil  afternoon.  I  put  in 
my  time  looking  into  the  windows  of  these 
art  stores.  Pictures  of  a  mother  and  her 
b  iby  boy  I  liked  much, —  most,  though,  those 
that  had  no  light  about  the  heads.  Only 
plain  woman  and  plain  child  seemed  to 
touch  me  deepest.  That  was  the  way  it 
came  to  me,  and  I  had  my  reason  for  it.  I 
have  just  told  you  why. 

"  I  began  to  think  about  seeing  my  loved 
ones.  And  from  that  rose  the  longing  to 
see  God.  I  knew  well  enough  the  foolish- 
ness of  the  wish,  for  God  is  Spirit  For  all 
that,  queer  things  do  stir  the  soul.  Don't 
you  think,  Parson,  that  these  stirrings  are 
prophecies  of  answers  to  come  ? " 


ISRAEL 

ly  what  I  got  in  the 
>t  after  it.  Perhaps 
;  I  got  most  good. 
,  the  street  opposite 
Lnd  you  know  there 
the  street.  It  was 
and  the  meetings 
rest ;  for  there  was 
afternoon.  I  put  in 
le  windows  of  these 
I  a  mother  and  her 
-  most,  though,  those 
It  the  heads.  Only 
n  child  seemed  to 
hat  was  the  way  it 
my  reason  for  it.     I 

out  seeing  my  loved 
rose  the  longing  to 
enough  the  foolish- 
d  is  Spirit  For  all 
dr  the  soul.  Don't 
these  stirrings  are 
)  come  ? " 


THE  HOPEFUL  4S 

"I    think.   Captain,    there    are    depths 

deeper  than  we  have  ever  dreamed  of.    We 

are    fearfully  and    wonderfully    made    in 

spirit." 

"But  my  answer  came  sooner  than  1 
could  possibly  think  it  would.  As  I  was 
thinking  in  this  way,  I  saw  some  of  the  par- 
sons walking  in  little  groups  to  a  brown 
stone  church  near  the  garden.  You  both 
know  it?" 

"  Yes,  Captain,"  both  doctor  and  minister 
at  once  answered. 

"  I  said  to  myself, '  There's  going  to  be  a 
mec  ng  of  some  kind,  after  all.'  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  I  was  going  to  miss 
nothing  I  could  go  to.  We  folk  in  the 
country  are  not  so  full  of  meetings  that  we 
have  meeting-dyspepsia,  as  you  city  folk 
seem  to  have." 

"  Have  mercy.  Captain,  on  the  parsons," 
pleaded  the  doctor. 

"  Let  the  captain  lay  on ;  for  I  do  think 
we  so  exhaust  ourselves  in  meetings  that 
we  have  little  energy  for  much  else,"  was 
the  imnister's  answer  to  the  doctor. 


■» 


'.laBsesae^ 


M 


frr>» 


li. 


&. 


'.    I 


w 


44  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

"  As  I  said,  I  followed  the  little  groups 
of  ministers;  and,  just  as  I  suspected, there 
was  to  be  a  meeting.  These  ministers  did 
not  go  into  the  church,  as  one  might  think 
they  would,  but  quietly  went  round  to  Jie 
chapel  back  of  the  church.  I  went  in,  too. 
That  chapel  is  not  as  big  as  our  Union 
Church  here  in  Lamartine.  I  took  a  seat ; 
»nd  let  me  say.  Parson,  that,  for  a  rich  city 
church,  that  seat  was  about  as  uncomfort- 
able an  one  as  you  could  find  in  any  meet- 
ing-house I  ever  was  in. 

"The  chapel  soon  filled  up, —  all  min 
isters.     I  was  the  only  un-parson-like  one 
in  the  place ;  but,  as  no  one  objected,  I 
stayed  right  along.    I  guess  you  know  the 
place,  Parson." 

"I  know  it  well,  Captain;  and  likely 
enough  I  was  there  that  day.  I'll  soon  be 
able  to  tell  you  after  you  tell  what  you 

heard." 

"Heard,  Parson  1  Well,  at  first  every- 
body was  talking.  I  really  think  that  I 
would  give  the  parsons  the  prize  in  tallring 


AEL 

iie  little  groups 
suspected,  there 
!se  ministen  did 
one  might  think 
nt  round  to  Jte 
I  went  in,  too. 
ig  as  our  Union 
,  I  took  a  seat ; 
at,  for  a  rich  city 
It  as  uncomfort- 
ind  in  any  meet* 

:d  up, —  all  min 
n-parson-like  one 
one  objected,  I 
ess  you  know  the 

tain;  and  likely 
lay.  I'll  toon  be 
u  tell  what  you 

ill,  at  first  every- 
illy  think  that  I 
le  prize  in  talking 


THE  HOPEFUL  4S 

against  any  sewing  society  I  ever  heard  of. 
But,  as  soon  as  the  chairman  called  order, 
there  was  perfect  quiet.     Then  a  simple 
prayer,  and  it  was  a  prayer.     The  man  that 
made  that    prayer  was  near   God.     'We 
will  now  listen  to  the  paper  by  Rev.  J.  W. 
Kendrick  on  "  The  Daring  Faith," '  said 
the  chairman.    When  I  heard  the  name,  I 
said  to  myself :  '  Only  a  sailor  lad  would  take 
that  title.     He's  a  son  of  the  sea.'     Well, 
he  went  on  with  his  paper ;  and  how  his 
words  did  glow  I    They  were  like  the  waves, 
all  lighted  with   the  sun.     They  showed 
that  he  had  the  brave  heart  of  his  sailor 
father.    He  told  us  that,  even  if  we  were 
not  sure  of  an  immortal  reward,  we  ought 
to  have  such  faith  in  man,  such  faith  in 
this  world,  that  we  would  work  on,  work 
ever,  until  this  world  was  the  divine  thing 
it  ought  to  be,  and  man  a  more  blessed 
being.    It  was  a  brave  heart  out  of  which 
the  words   came, —  a  heart  that  had  the 
courage  of  the  sailor  father.    I  felt  proud 
of  the  lad,  though,  indeed,  he  was  no  lad 
then." 


r 


i 

•1* 

I! 

r 


I 

11! 


tuawiJutiWaiitiitiiBIVi^^.Ti  laiwt. 


46  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  was  at  that  meeting,  Cap- 
tain." 

"  But  that  is  not  all,  Parson.  I  under- 
stood that  after  the  paper  there  was  to  be 
a  discussion,  but  I  did  not  just  feel  Uke 
staying  for  it.  And  there  were  others  who 
felt  as  I  did.  Among  these  was  an  elderly 
minister,  quite  tall  and  straight,  his  hair 
long  and  white,  his  beard  the  same,  his 
eyes  bright  like  the  stars,  his  voice  quiet 

and  musical." 

"  I  know  who  it  was,"  said  the  minister. 
"  He,  too.  Captain,  had  somewhat  to  do 
with  the  sea." 

«<  I  found  that  out,  for  he  said  a  word 
about  shipbuilding.  He  was  standing  on 
the  top  step  of  the  outer  door  of  the  chapel. 
Others  were  standing  on  the  lower  steps 
and  on  the  stone  walk  which  leads  from  the 
street  to  the  chapel  door.  These  others 
were  younger  ministers,  who  seemed  to 
know  the  elderly  man.  They  were  listen- 
ing. And  I  stopped  and  listened.  '  Those 
were  brave  words  from  Brother  Kendrick, 


lAEL 

It  meeting,  Cap- 
arson.  I  under- 
r  there  was  to  be 
[lot  just  feel  like 
were  others  who 
se  was  an  elderly 
straight,  his  hair 
rd  the  same,  his 
5,  his  voice  quiet 

said  the  minister, 
somewhat  to  do 

T  he  said  a  word 
was  standing  on 
ioor  of  the  chapel, 
ti  the  lower  steps 
lich  leads  from  the 
or.  These  others 
;,  who  seemed  to 
They  were  listen- 
[  listened.  *  Those 
Brother  Kendrick, 


—  » 


THE  HOPEFUL  47 

boys.  His  is  a  daring  faith.  But,  some- 
how, it  comes  to  me  that  for  us  to  believe 
that  we  are  in  the  image  of  *-he  Eternal 
One,  and  that  the  divine  likeness  is  to 
grow  ever  more  clearer  throughout  full 
eternity,  is  the  daring  faith,  after  all.  And, 
boys,  the  most  daring  faith  is,  to  my  mind, 
the  truest  and  surest  one.'  My  heart  leaped 
within  me.  And  the  words  *  He  that  hath 
seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father '  burst  open, 
and  revealed  the  truth  in  them.  I  looked 
for  God  in  my  heart,  and  I  believe  I  found 
him  there." 


il 


Chapter  VIII. 

THE  LAST   SUNDAY  OF   THE  VA- 
CATION. 

It  was  the  last  Sunday  in  August,  the 
last  the  minister  and  doctor  were  to  spend 
that  summer  in  Lamartine.  There  was  to 
be  service  in  the  Union  Church  morning 
and  evening.  The  parson  was  to  preach 
in  the  morning;  a  song  service  was  to  be 
held  in  the  evening. 

The  doctor  always  prided  lumself  on  the 
part  he  had  in  the  service.  It  was  to  ring 
the  church  bell.  It  was  one  of  his  vaca- 
tion privileges  and  pleasures.  On  this 
Sunday  morning  he  tried  to  put  into  the 
bell-ringing  his  feelings  of  sorrow  on  leav- 
ing Lamartine,  and  of  thankfulness  for  the 
larger  life  the  captain's  words  had  given 
him.  And  any  one  hearing  the  bell  that  day 
would  say  that  the  doctor  had  succeeded 
in  making  it  speak  for  him. 

The  bell's  call  was  soon  answered  by  the 
people.    The  minister  and  doctor  stood  on 


1 


IF   THE  VA- 

in  August,  the 
r  were  to  spend 
There  was  to 
Ihurch  morning 
was  to  preach 
rvice  was  to  be 

1  himself  on  the 
It  was  to  ring 
ne  of  his  vaca- 
ures.  On  this 
to  put  into  the 

sorrow  on  leav- 
Mulness  for  the 
rords  had  given 
the  bell  that  day 

had  succeeded 

answered  by  the 
doctor  stood  on 


CAPTAIN  ISRAEL  49 

the  green  patch  at  the  church  door,  and 
watched  the  little  groups  as  they  came 
from  different  side  roads  into  the  shore 
road,  dignified  by  the  name  of  Main 
Street  They  came  afoot,  covered  with 
dust.  They  came  in  wagons  and  buggies, 
and  some  few  on  horseback.  Now  and 
then  a  city  turnout  brought  its  master  and 
mistress,  man  and  maid,  to  the  church, — 
one  church  for  all,  as  one  God  for  all. 

Captain  Israel  drove  up  with  a  big  dem- 
ocrat wagon  full  of  elderly  folk,  whom  he 

d  -licked  up  on  the  way.  John  Hawkins, 
I.  i  ind  straight,  and  spare  as  one  of  the 
pmes  of  his  native  Maine,  never  nussed  a 
meeting.  He  was  a  pillar  in  the  church  at 
Lamartine,  and  he  seemed  to  be  delighted 
with  his  honor, —  more  so,  indeed,  than  with 
the  fact  that  he  was  a  political  pillar  of  his 
party  in  the  large  city  where  he  lived  dur- 
ing the  winter.  In  his  city  church  he  was 
one  of  the  leaders.  He  would  walk  up  the 
sdsle  of  the  little  country  church,  carrying 
his  eighty  years  with  the  air  of  a  youth  of 


1: 


(»    ■ 


JSlii'i-'iSi^SiiUWiiM 


so  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

twenty.  Judge  Perkins,  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  State,  and  all  his  household, 
were  always  on  hand  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
ahead  of  time.  This  he  did  on  principle. 
"  Business  methods  in  God's  service  are  as 
necessary  as  in  the  State's,"  said  the  judge. 
The  little  church  was  soon  filled,  with 
farmers  and  fanners'  sons,  wives,  and 
daughters,  old  sea  captains  and  young  sea 
captains,  judges  and  lawyers,  college  pro- 
fessors and  Sute  magnates,  old  and  young, 
rich  and  poor,  learned  in  books  and  learned 
in  nature, —  God's  children. 

Captain  Israel  and  the  doctor  occupied 
the  same  pew,  well  to  the  front  The  cap- 
tain sat  at  the  end  next  to  the  aisle,  for  he 
was  to  take  up  the  collection  on  his  side 
of  the  church.  And  next  to  him  sat  the 
doctor,  who  seemed  to  feel  that,  since  he 
was  the  bell-ringer,  he  was  one  of  the  chief 
pillars  in  the  church. 

In  speaking  afterward  about  the  sermon, 
the  doctor  said :  "  I  never  saw  the  captain 
so  well  pleased.    He  sat  almost  perfectly 


:  the  Supreme 
his  household, 
rter  of  an  hour 
id  on  principle. 
i  service  are  as 
said  the  judge, 
on  filled,  with 
IS,  wives,  and 
and  young  sea 
rs,  college  pro- 
old  and  young, 
oks  and  learned 

doctor  occupied 
:ont  The  cap- 
he  aisle,  for  he 
ion  on  his  side 
to  him  sat  the 
1  that,  since  he 
one  of  the  chief 

tout  the  sermon, 

saw  the  captain 

almost  perfectly 


THE  HOPEFUL  51 

still.  And  now  and  then  he'd  say  to  him- 
self, '  He's  getting  into  the  right  harbor,'  or 
'The  parson  has  got  hold  of  reality,'  or 
'  He  is  on  the  right  tack.'  " 

This  was  the  doctor's  account  of  the 
captain's  conduct.  And  it  is  confirmed  by 
what  Captain  Israel  afterward  said  to  the 

parson. 

The  simplicity  of  the  sermon,  the  appeal 
to  the  common  heart  of  all,  won. 

But  never  did  a  minister  sit  down  with 
less  self-approval  than  did  the  parson  that 
Sunday  morning.  "What  have  I  said 
that  was  original  or  even  more  than  com- 
monplace? Not  a  thing.  Perhaps  I'm 
not  called  to  preach,  after  all.  I  had  better 
give  up.  I  have  deceived  myself  these 
twenty  years." 

The  open  air,  and  the  simple  thanks 
which  the  people  gave  the  parson  on  the 
way  home,  somewhat  healed  his  heart  of  its 
self-inflicted  wound.  And  after  dinner  the 
captain's  word  not  only  helped  him,  but 
surprised  him. 


u 

if 

I 

! 


f 


52  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

"  Why,  Captain,  I  said  nothing  but  what 
any  child  could  say." 

"  Eh,  Parson,  and,  if  you  did  that,  you 
accomplished  the  greatest  feat  in  preach- 
ing,— leastwise,  that's  how   it   seems    tc 

me." 

"  How  thankful  I  am  I "  said  the  minis- 
ter, speaking  less  to  the  captain  than  to 
some  Unseen  One. 

"  I  think,  Parson,  what  touched  all  this 
morning  was  the  reality  in  you  and  your 
words.  You  felt  that  there  was  no  use 
talldng  in  a  learned  way.  The  college 
professors  were  to  the  right  of  you,  and 
they  know  more  than  you  about  what's  in 
the  books.  The  farmers  and  the  sea  cap- 
tains were  to  the  left  of  you,  and  you  could 
not  talk  out  of  the  books  to  them ;  for  they 
would  not  understand  you.  So  you  had  to 
let  your  heart  speak,  and  it  spoke.  But  I 
am  afraid.  Parson,  that  your  theology  was 
not  up  to  the  standard." 

"  How  so,  Captain  ? " 

"  This  way,  Parson ;  and  here's  the  doc- 


< 


thing  but  what 

1  did  that,  you 
Eeat  in  preach- 
'   it   seems    tc 

said  the  minis- 
:aptain  than  to 

ouched  all  this 

1  you  and  your 

re  was  no  use 

The  college 

ht  of  you,  and 

about  what's  in 

id  the  sea  cap- 

,  and  you  could 

them ;  for  they 

So  you  had  to 

t  spoke.    But  I 

ir  theology  was 


I  here's  the  doc- 


THE  HOPEFUL  53 

tor  to  confirm  my  words.  You  were  too 
real,  too  simple,  for  the  standards.  You 
were  like  the  spring,  clear  to  the  depths, 
with  the  white  sands  below,  bubbling  up  in 
purest  water." 

"  The  captain  has  struck  the  truth,  Par- 
son. I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  report  you  to 
the  church  board,  when  we  get  home. 
What  do  you  say  ? "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Doctor,  you  know  I  want  to  be  true  to 
my  church,"  the  minister  answered. 

"  I  want  to  be  true  to  my  life,"  protested 
the  doctor. 

"  And  that  is  just  what  you  were  to-day, 
Parson,  and  made  us  feel  we  ought  to  be. 
How  real  you  made  Jesus,  when  you  said 
he  was  the  '  most  human  of  us  all,'  '  the 
revelation  of  the  spiritual  richness  of  man- 
kind '  I    Why,  you  made  one  feel  that  Jesus 
could  be  and  was  a  real  example  and  an 
inspiration  to  the  weakest,  frailest  human 
being.    You  did  not  jricture  him  as  a  war- 
rior, clad  in  perfect  armor,  sent  to  fight  a 
great  battle,  while  we  were  sent  into  the 


< 


w   _ 


54  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

same  battle  with  no  armor  and  with  every- 
thing to  hinder  us.  No,  Parson,  you  got  at 
the  reality.  Jesus  and  you  and  I  are  in  the 
same  battle,  with  the  same  armor." 

"  But,  Captain,  I  did  not  say '  mere  man,' " 
anxiously  urged  the  minister,  who  still  was 
the  slave  of  words. 

"No,  Parson,  'most  man'  was  your 
thought,  whether  or  not  it  was  your  word. 
And  it  is  the  thought  of  all  in  their  hearts, 
whatever  may  be  their  creeds."  The  cap- 
tain was  much  in  earnest. 

"  And,  more,  you  made  us  feel  God  near 
us.  And  here  let  me  tell  you  a  story.  It 
will  be  the  one  to  most  remember  this  vaca- 
tion by.  You  know  that  during  the  winter 
some  fifteen  or  twenty  of  our  town  folk 
meet  at  my  house  every  Friday  evening. 
We  gather  around  the  long  table  in  the 
dining-room.  I  sit  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
for  I  was  made  the  leader.  We  take  a  Bible 
chapter  or  some  foundation  truth  in  re- 
ligion. There  is  perfect  liberty  and  true 
reverence.    The  folk  bring  little  blocks  of 


:iu- 


LAEL 

and  with  every- 

irson,  you  got  at 

and  I  are  in  the 

armor." 

lay '  mere  man,' " 

er,  who  still  was 

nan '  was  your 
was  your  word. 
i  in  their  hearts, 
leds."  The  cap- 
is  feel  God  near 
^ou  a  story.  It 
lember  this  vaca- 
iuring  the  winter 
:  our  town  folk 
Friday  evening. 
>ng  table  in  the 
lead  of  the  table. 
We  take  a  Bible 
ion  truth  in  re- 
liberty  and  true 
g  little  blocks  of 


THE  HOPEFUL  Sf 

writing  paper  and   pencils,  and  we  take 
notes,  and  compare  notes. 

"  Among  our  number  is  Miss  Morton,  who 
thinks  for  herself,  and  so  does  not  always  see 
as  I  do.    Nor  does  she  hide  her  thoughts 
under  a  bushel.    She  says  what  she  thinks. 
Sometimes  she  so  has  disagreed  with  me 
that  she  has  protested,  •  You  want  to  de- 
stroy   everything.    Captain.'     I'd    answer, 
•No,   I'm  building    higher   and  broader. 
Miss  Morton.'    But  never  mind  our  argu- 
ments.   For  seven  years    we   have  kept 
up    thoie  meetings,— rich  feasts    to    me 
they  have  been.    I  have  seen    into   the 
minds  and  hearts  of  people.    At  the  close 
of  the  seventh  year  Miss  Morton,  when  we 
were  alone  for  a  minute,  said  quietly,  but 
earnestly :  '  Captain  Israel,  one  thing  I  want 
to  say.  You  have  made  God  real  to  me.' 

»  Eh,  Parson,  and  you.  Doc.,  if  there  are 
any  crowns  yonder,  and  any  gems  in  those 
crowns,  'You  have  made  God  real  to  me ' 
will  be  the  brightest  gem  in  mine,  if  there 
b  one  for  me." 


'  ,1 


(• 


LtfC 


56  CAPTAIN  ISRAEL 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  minutes, 
which  was  broken  by  a  question  from  the 
minister. 

"  You  think,  then,  there  was  some  of  that 
reality  to  my  words  this  morning.  Captain  ? " 

"  I  do.  Parson." 

"  Thank  you,  Captsdn." 

"  And  it  is  just  that  same  reality  I  always 
fbd  in  Jesus'  words,  deeper  and  richer 
every  time  I  go  to  them.  In  his  deepest 
sorrow  God  is  sdll  'Father.'  And  the 
name  comes  from  his  lips  as  no  mere 
phrase,  but  as  expression  of  the  deep  rela- 
tionship between  God  and  man.  Suffering 
and  dying  on  the  cross,  still  'Father.' 
Jesus  makes  us  feel  God  by  our  side, 
helper  and  friend  and  companion  in  life's 
joys  and  life's  sorrows.    He  makes  God 

real." 

The  End. 


* 


,  few  minutes, 
sstion  from  the 

as  some  of  that 
ling,  Captain  ? " 


reality  I  always 
>er  and  richer 
In  his  deepest 
er.'  And  the 
)s  as  no  mere 
;  the  deep  rela- 
nan.  Suffering 
still  'Father.' 
1  by  our  side, 
panion  in  life's 
He  makes  God 


I 


